Unlike a Sister (Harmione)

Chapter 11: The Dinner Party

He could not forget the touch of her arms around his neck, impatiently felt as it had been at the time; but now the recollection of her clinging defence of him, seemed to thrill him through and through-to melt away every resolution, all power of self-control, as if it were wax before a fire.

- Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South (1854)

When Harry reentered the house, it was just past six. Ron was in the kitchen, transferring the food to their respective serving dishes. Harry helped by casting warming spells under each one.

Together, they brought the platters to the dining room. Ron and Hermione's home actually had two dining rooms: a formal one with white oak paneling and a less formal one that abutted the conservatory. Hermione had chosen the latter.

The room was spectacular in Harry's opinion. One wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, which provided a lovely view of the garden. The floors were the same, slated grey oak that ran through the rest of the house, but here they also matched the exposed beams in the ceiling. The true centerpiece of the room, however, was the chandelier. It was an intricately carved pair of antlers, small candles resting atop each delicate point.

With a wave of his wand, Harry lit the chandelier. Hermione had also strung lights around the edge of the room and Harry lit these too. A warm glow filled the space, amplified by the cream tablecloth and china with gold accents.

"She wants this done a certain way," Ron said, looking at the dishes. "We should wait or she'll just yell at us."

Harry nodded.

"Reckon we should get dressed then?" Ron said.

"Sure. Left my stuff in my bag..."

Ron went upstairs while Harry collected his things from the cloakroom. Rummaging through his bag, he removed a dark blue dress shirt and dark grey trousers. He hung up his Auror cloak (obscuring the insignia with a spell) and went to change in the guest washroom. Before he stepped out, Harry looked at himself in the mirror.

His hair was graying at the temples but otherwise remained as unruly, black, and dense as ever. Faint lines touched the corners of his eyes and his forehead. His lightning-bolt scar was still there, unchanged. He felt his stomach tighten with nerves.

Would this really work? Would the children remember their parts? Were they going to have to obliviate the Srinivasans before the night was out?

Could he pull off being married to Hermione?

With a sigh, Harry stepped into the hallway. He returned his bag to the cloakroom just as Ron was coming down the stairs.

"How's Hermione coming along?"

"Well, she hadn't started getting ready. Was cleaning until I forced her to stop."

He nodded, digging his hands into his pockets.

Just then, the front door swung open and Ginny appeared.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late."

Harry was about to respond, but stopped. She looked absurdly gorgeous. She wore a black dress with a deep V that clung perfectly to her figure. Her lips were painted crimson. Harry trailed his eyes down her legs.

"Wow, Gin," Ron laughed at her, in the way brothers do at sisters. "Trying to show us up in front of the Muggles?

"You look beautiful," Harry told her, kissing her cheek.

"Thanks," she said coolly. "How're things shaping up?"

Ron shrugged. "Food is done. Just waiting for Daniel and the Muggles."